


when i taste tequila

by captainsourwolf



Series: Rhink Ficlets [3]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Drinking, M/M, never heard of it, plot?, tequila is a friend of theirs, the boys are drunk again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 06:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainsourwolf/pseuds/captainsourwolf
Summary: Rhett pretends like he doesn't know what body shots are so Link sets out to teach him.





	when i taste tequila

“No, no, no! You’re not doing it right!” Link slurs and sits up on his elbows, only losing his balance once. 

Rhett rolls his eyes and sets the salt shaker down roughly. It clinks on the marble countertop next to Link’s clothed hip. 

“Then how the hell am I supposed to do it?” Rhett throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “It can’t be that hard!” He glares down at Link and Link huffs. 

“Gimme a hand,” Link orders as he reaches a hand out. Rhett grasps it and hauls him up to a sitting position on the edge of the island counter, Link swaying dangerously after copious amounts of wine consumed earlier. Link snatches the salt up and wraps his legs around Rhett’s thighs so he can haul the other man closer. Leaning forward, he licks Rhett’s bare shoulder, shakes some salt onto it, and giggles. “First you have to do this…” he points to Rhett’s shoulder.

Sucking in a breath, Rhett’s gaze stays on Link’s hands as he sets the salt down, reaches over the side to the rolling drink cart, and grabs a lime and a shot of tequila. Quickly, before Rhett can react, Link dives forward and sloppily licks the salt up, pounds back the shot, and eats the lime. He spits the rind out onto the floor, smirking. 

Link watches for Rhett’s reaction. He sees the other man shudder, his throat bob when he swallows too hard. It sends a thrill up Link’s spine knowing he did that. 

“Got it?” he asks softly and pokes Rhett in the chest. He squeezes his legs around Rhett’s thighs and jerks him tight against the edge of the countertop to get him to answer. 

“Yeah, _yeah_, I got it,” Rhett says breathily. Link can smell the alcohol on his breath this close. Rhett reaches around and grabs up the salt and another shot glass. “Lay back,” he commands. 

Link goes willingly, hissing when his naked back hits the now cool marble surface, and wiggles his hips. He rests his arms above his head, wrapping loose fingers around the edge of the countertop, and waits. 

Rhett hums above him. He has the salt shaker gripped tight in one hand and the shot glass clutched in the other. Suddenly and without warning Rhett leans over Link, licks a hot stripe across his clavicle, and dumps some salt on the wet skin. He looks up, eyes burning holes in Link’s face, and Link shivers. 

“Yeah, there you go,” Link puffs. He closes his eyes, grips the edge of the counter too tight. “Now lick the salt off,” he says gently. Rhett does as he’s told, hot tongue coming out to lick the salt off Link’s skin. “And the shot.” Rhett moves back far enough to down the liquid. He swallows and slams the glass onto the counter, reaches back down, and grabs a lime to suck on. 

Link is _suffering_. 

The image of Rhett looming over him, downing a shot of tequila like it’s an addiction while he stares at Link, is enough to make him full body shudder. The wine he indulged in earlier in the evening makes him feel loose, ready for anything, _good_. He’s half hard in his pants, top and shoes tossed somewhere half an hour ago, toes curling against Rhett’s thighs. 

What started as a dare after Rhett opened an expensive bottle of red, an _“I bet you can’t do five shots in a row,”_ ended up with them in this position, Rhett feigning innocence about body shots, and Link trying to impatiently teach him what to do. If they were sober, rested after an exhausting day, and nowhere near the wine cooler then this wouldn’t be happening. Link would be at home preparing for bed with his wife and telling his children goodnight. Rhett would be doing the same. It’s their routine but tonight they were feeling bold and daring in their exhaustion. 

One glass of wine turned into two, then three and four, entire bottle gone between the two of them after the fourth. It made them tipsy-drunk, buzzed in a good way, and Link wanted to see what he could coax out of Rhett. He wobbled his way to their office, telling Rhett to cut up some limes on the way out, and clumsily rolled their drink tray to the kitchen. It dissolved from there with Rhett tearing Link’s white and neon sweatshirt off, Link jerking Rhett’s t-shirt up and over his arms in retaliation.

Rhett had tried to pretend like he didn’t know about body shots when Link mentioned what the limes were for. Link immediately knew it was a lie but went along with it anyway and took the cut up limes from Rhett’s shaking hands, grabbing the salt on his way by. He set it all on the drink tray, poured out a few glasses, turned to Rhett, and beckoned him over. 

“Help me up.” Link forced Rhett’s hands on his waist and used his own to hoist himself up on the island with Rhett’s help. He laid back, or fell back he isn’t entirely sure, and urged the other man on with words of encouragement while Rhett feigned ignorance. 

Now, as he lies here, shaking from the feeling of Rhett’s tongue on his skin, he thanks whoever above for the creation of tequila, limes, and salt. The spit on his skin is drying, bits of salt stuck to him that Rhett missed. He wiggles his hips again and with Rhett pressed so close he can bear down while he wiggles, enjoy the friction on his ass and the feel of Rhett hardening in his own pants. 

Before Link can process it, Rhett is licking another hot stripe across his skin, this time on his throat. It’s wetter and the salt sticks better when Rhett shakes it on liberally. Then the salt is gone, another shot taken, and another lime eaten. 

“_Rhett_,” Link hisses and throws his head back to expose more of his throat and neck. Rhett groans loudly. “Such a good student,” he huffs and rolls his hips up. He’s starting to feel sticky with spit and salt, but he wants more. “Do another one,” he demands, voice on the verge of breaking. 

Rhett nods enthusiastically. Link looks up into his eyes, sees they are dark with arousal, pupils blown wide as he reaches for another slice of the sour fruit. This time he taps the lime against Link’s lips and Link sucks it in, dragging his lips on Rhett’s fingertips on their way out. He holds it there while Rhett picks up the fourth glass and the salt shaker. 

“D’you know how good you taste, Link?” Rhett asks as he steps backwards a couple of inches and drops down, lips hovering over Link’s ribcage. “You taste,” he whispers and mouths a searing trail of spit over Links ribs, “like tequila and salt and sweat.” He uses his tongue to trace a path between muscles and ribs. Link whimpers pathetically around the lime. “It’s…’s amazing.”

Finally Rhett stops the assault on his torso and pours more salt. Link heaves in and out, not enough air getting into his lungs. The tongue is back and mouthing up every last grain of salt before tipping the fourth shot back and swallowing it down. Rhett pauses and there’s a moment where he stares Link down, eyes impossibly dark, then flicks his gaze to the lime. 

Link puckers his lips around the fruit and waggles his eyebrows. Rhett surges forward to suck it out, misses at first, before getting his teeth in the fleshy part of the fruit and taking it into his own mouth. Link helps by using his tongue to push it out, staring into Rhett’s eyes the entire time. Rhett sputters around the lime slice and nearly chokes on it.

“Don’t stare at me like that, man,” Rhett coughs. Link laughs in delight and tosses his head back, head thunking against the marble, fingers grasping and releasing on the now slick edge of the counter. “Fifth one,” Rhett says and shows Link the last glass. 

Link raises an eyebrow and rolls his pelvis up, rubbing his erection against the rough fabric of his pants and Rhett’s stomach. Rhett moans, own hips jerking hard, and spills some of the tequila. It splashes on Link’s chest, cool and with a slight sting, and Link knits his brow together at the sensation. 

“Better make it the best one, then,” Link puffs out. He keeps rolling his hips, slower and more insistent, relishing in the way Rhett is bearing down on him with his body, creating the best pressure on his clothed erection. “Fuck, Rhett, come on.”

Rhett rears back and if it weren’t for Link quickly reaching for his forearms and tightening his legs around strong thighs, then Rhett would be clumsily falling backwards in his well-past-tipsy state. Link keeps him steady with his heels digging into Rhett’s thighs and tightly clasps his forearms. The other man sways for a few seconds, grin on his lips. 

“I’m drunk,” Rhett states giddily. “This tequila tastes _great_.” He downs the shot, freezes, then dissolves into laughter onto Link’s chest, breath puffing against Link’s skin. “You’re so hot, Link,” he mumbles into Link’s chest. Link sighs heavily. So this is where it’s going to go. “And your nipples smell like baby bell cheese.” He hiccups and presses a kiss on Link’s nipple. 

“Oh my god, okay,” Link huffs. Arousal forgotten for a moment, Link grabs Rhett by the shoulders and pushes him up. Rhett whines and makes grabby hands at Link’s torso, almost getting his fingers on warm skin, but Link stops him. “Back up, big guy.” 

Rhett does as he’s told and dangerously heaves backwards. Link rolls his eyes dramatically. He keeps his legs around Rhett as he slides forward on the marble surface, now slick with his sweat, spit, and alcohol. Rhett stumbles on his feet. 

“You’re such a sloppy drunk, Rhett,” Link sighs. He edges his way off the island, legs dropping and feet hitting the cold floor. Wiggling his toes, he shakes himself out, wine and his single shot still making him tingly all over. “You only had four!” He exclaims and lightly backhands Rhett on the chest. 

“But I feel good,” Rhett responds, still beaming down at Link. “Wine, tequila…”

“I bet you do,” Link mumbles. Rhett sways again, this time reaching out on his own and grabbing Link’s shoulders. Link holds on to his waist to keep him from falling. “Come on, let’s get’ya cle--” Link gasps when Rhett suddenly goes down to his knees and then slowly to his back, dragging Link with him to the floor. 

“Floor feels good,” Rhett groans and gets Link gathered up next to him. “Less’jus….lay here.” Link smacks him on the chest and pushes himself to his knees, staring down at Rhett. He’s fond of the guy but right now Link’s too buzzed and his dick too hard to care about the state he’s in. 

“Rhett,” Link pokes Rhett’s shoulder. Rhett’s eyes are slipping closed as he lays there, arms and legs splayed in a giant starfish move, dopey grin on his face. “Rhett..._Rhett_.” Huffing, Link sits back on his heels and considers his friend for a second. His eye lashes are sweeping his cheeks and his nose is wrinkled where he smiles; his cheeks are puffed up and flushed a pretty pink. “You were s’pose to suck me off, dude.” 

Rhett mumbles something and rolls his head to the side, sighing heavily. Link rolls his eyes, gets to his feet, and nudges at the other man on the floor. _Sloppy_, he thinks in amusement. _At least there’s still some tequila._ Snatching said bottle off the cart, Link sways around in a circle, glances at Rhett one more time, and takes a long drink as he staggers out of the kitchen. 

He’ll deal with Rhett later. Right now he’s got some business to take care of.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what the hell this is but it was fun to write. and it fits with the series' theme. also, this is loosely inspired by link's torso in that LTAT. you know the one. with the baby bell cheese.


End file.
